Laundry Day: The Early Years
by Zofie C. Field
Summary: It has been a very long week, and things have been piling up.


_Note: None of these characters are mine._

* * *

><p><strong>Laundry day: Early Years<strong>

Three murders, four all-nighters, and eighteen inches of snow had done Kate Beckett in. She'd been running around like a mad woman for days. Her apartment looked like a disaster zone. Her kitchen should be condemned (though the friendly mold growing in the fridge would have to be evicted first). There wasn't a single clean item of seasonally-appropriate clothing to be had anywhere, and she'd taken to leaving snowy clothes in a wet heap by the front door. And she couldn't have cared less.

When Kate Beckett got home, she barely made it through the front door, let alone to the bedroom. She slammed the door shut, flipped the lock, dropped her bag, cranked up the heat, and collapsed onto the couch. She was sound asleep before the thermostat even had a chance to click on.

Sometime during the night (or the wee hours of the morning, as truth would have it), her slumber was momentarily disturbed. She shifted slightly in her sleep. Her eyelids twitched, but they were far too heavy to bother opening. Kate pulled her jacket tighter around her and slept on.

Beepbeep. Beepbeep. Beepbeep. Beeeeeeeeeeeep. Beepbeep. Beepbeep. Beeeeeeeeeeeeep.

Kate grunted at the intrusion, throwing out a hand to shut off the alarm. When her hand hit only air (and the insistent beeping continued), she scrubbed her eyes with a fist and slowly dragged them open. It took her a moment to pull together some semblance of consciousness, but when she did, she found herself face down on her couch, drooling slightly.

That explained the lack of an alarm clock, but not the god-awful beeping.

A quiet swear made its way from her kitchen. Her reasoning faculties kicked into gear, and she hauled herself upright on the couch, just in time to see Castle come racing past the couch and into her laundry room.

"Castle?"

Castle poked his head through the door, looking slightly panicked. "Ah, you're awake! Good. Well, not good. I had planned on letting you sleep as long as possible, but, well," his forehead crumpled desperately, "Please make it stop!"

She stared at him for a long moment, trying to sort out the appropriate response to the situation. "_What are you doing in my apartment?_" probably would have sufficed, but she settled on "What is that noise?"

Beepbeep. Beepbeep. Beepbeep.

"That," Castle said, pointing to the kitchen, "Is your oven timer."

Beeeeeeeeeep. Beeeeeeeeeeeep.

"And that," he continued, pointing a thumb over his shoulder, "is the alarm on your dryer." He slumped against the door frame. "And I can't make them stop."

He looked so pathetic, Kate had to laugh. She walked into the kitchen, and without pause, thrust the heel of her hand into the oven control panel. The timer stopped beeping. Then she proceeded to slip past Castle into the laundry room, where she swiftly kicked the base of the dryer twice. The alarm went silent.

"Old apartment," she said to Castle by way of explanation. He was staring at her, eyes wide, mouth agape.

"You're like a ninja!"

She chuckled at him, and moved to sit on the arm of the couch.

"Now, what are you doing in my apartment?"

"Well, I called a couple times, and when you didn't answer, I got worried."

"Castle, it's only –" Kate craned her neck to see the time on the stove, and her eyes widened in surprise, "Eight o'clock!"

"Yup, eight at night," Castle confirmed. "You've been out for almost 24 hours. I firmly hold that my worry was justified."

Kate absentmindedly mussed her already severe bed-head as she considered him.

"Ok, letting that slide for the moment. That does not explain, however, the beeping."

"About that," Castle said, shifting on his feet a bit, delaying. He took a deep breath and rambled, "I got here, and it was like hell! Dirty dishes, something breeding in your fridge, clothes tossed everywhere. You were completely dead to the world, so I fixed it." He met her eyes, nervous, but daring her to challenge him.

"You fixed it?" she asked suspiciously.

Castle nodded. Kate leaned and looked past him into her tiny laundry room. Folded on the washing machine were neat piles of clothing, sheets, and towels. Everything was stacked and sorted by color, and even from where she sat, she could smell the faint scent of fabric softener. Her forehead furrowed as she tried to comprehend.

Castle bent and swung open the dryer door. He dug inside for a moment before producing an old hooded sweatshirt. He tossed it to her. It was still warm and she had to fight the urge to bury her face in. She settled for shrugging off the winter coat she was still wearing, and pulling the sweatshirt over her head. She tucked her hands into the pocket and considered him.

"Castle, you did my laundry," she said, softly, amazed. He breathed a sigh of relief, and walked over to where she was still perched on the couch.

"Yeah, well, don't go getting all mushy on me, but I made you macaroni and cheese too."

Kate punched him gently on the shoulder, and then accepted the hand he offered her. As they walked towards the kitchen, she swung their arms and whispered playfully, "You're like my very own houself!"

"That's houself _man_ to you, missy," he said, pulling on an apron and going in search of a potholder.

* * *

><p>Thanks for reading!<p> 


End file.
